quarters at Metz
"Friedrich Wilhelm "Kronprinz des
"Deutschen Reiches."

Across the signature was the impress of a green stamp,
lozenge-shaped, inscribed "Headquarters of the Fifth Army,
General Staff, 21st September, 1914."

On the back of the slip was a detailed description of Nur-el-Din.

Desmond bowed and handed the paper back to its owner.

"Madame must accept my humble excuses," he murmured, hardly
knowing what he was saying, so great was his surprise, "my house
and services are at Madame's disposal!"

"The other letter was from Count Plettenbach, the Prince's
A.D.C., whom I think you know!" added the dancer in a mollified
voice as she replaced the slip of paper in its pocketbook and
stowed it away in her hand-bag. Then, looking up archly at
Desmond, she said:

"Am I so distasteful, then, to have in your house?"

She made a charming picture. Her heavy fur coat had fallen open,
disclosing her full round throat, very brown against the V-shaped
opening of her white silk blouse. Her mouth was a perfect cupid's
bow, the upper lip slightly drawn up over her dazzlingly white
teeth. Before Desmond could answer her question, if answer were
needed, her mood had swiftly changed again. She put her hand out,
a little brown hand, and laying it on his shoulder, looked up
appealingly into his eyes.

"You will protect me," she said in a low voice, "I cannot bear
this hunted life. From this side, from that, they, are closing in
on me, and I am frightened, so very frightened. Promise you will
keep me from harm!"

Desmond gazed down into her warm, expressive eyes helplessly.
What she asked was impossible, he knew, but he was a soldier, not
a policeman, he told himself, and under his breath he cursed the
Chief for landing him in such a predicament. To Nur-el-Din he
said gently:

"Tell me what has happened to frighten you. Who is hunting you?
Is it the police?"

She withdrew her hand with a gesture of contempt.

"Bah!" she said bitterly. "I am not afraid of the police."

Then she sank into a reverie, her gaze fixed on the dying embers
of the fire.

"All my life has been a struggle," she went on, after a moment,
"first with hunger, then with men, then the police. I am used to
a hard life. No, it is not the police!"

"Who is it, then" asked Desmond, completely nonplused.

Nur-el-Din let her eyes rest on his face for a moment.

"You have